


In the Sandbox

by thegrendel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Human Potential, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Sexual Experimentation, The Sixties, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 12:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15685221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrendel/pseuds/thegrendel
Summary: It was 1968, the year of experimentation, the year of the Human Potential movement. Paul was a brilliant 18-year-old Cal Tech student who wanted to lose his virginity. And what better place to do that than Dr. Abelian's Sandbox Institute."Sonny, I don't know what you're expecting from that bunch of loonies up there on the hill, but watch yourself. You're young and defenseless, and you could easily get hurt." He didn't believe it. How could love and sex possibly hurt?





	In the Sandbox

He remembered the sandbox. It was a fun place, a safe place. It was a  
place to play, to act out fantasies, to try out things, to make believe  
you were a grownup. You could run and jump, and even fall . . . and the  
sand kept you from getting hurt. Except for a few scrapes now and then.

 

Fifteen years later Paul Unschuld was on a journey of discovery. Finally  
he was going to find out all about love and sex and women's bodies and  
that deliciously mysterious ritual called "fucking."

He was that rare and exotic flower of a bygone era -- an innocent. He had  
come of age in the modern and enlightened year of 1968, and had never  
had a girlfriend. In fact, no one had ever told him about the Facts of  
Life." He had led a sheltered life, strictly according to his parents'  
wishes, and they had isolated and shielded him from all the sundry  
manifestations of "sin and ugliness."

What did a woman's sex organ look like? He had no idea. He had won a  
scholarship to Cal Tech, yet all he knew about female anatomy was that  
they had these soft swellings on their "bosom" and a "baby-making hole"  
somewhere or other in the general area where their legs joined. The  
actual mechanics of baby-making remained shrouded in the mists.

Early on the morning of his eighteenth birthday he finally broke free of  
his overprotective parents. Carrying only a worn satchel packed with two  
changes of clothes, an emergency meal of plastic-wrapped saltine crackers  
and a can of sardines, and a couple of his favorite paperback science  
fiction novels, he slipped out his bedroom window at first light. An  
hour's walk took him to the Route 6 on-ramp. He turned to face the  
oncoming traffic and stuck out his thumb.

 

There was a sandbox on a remote mountaintop overlooking southern  
California's Samarran Desert. Jarman Abelian, the guru of the Sexual  
Renewal Movement had established his aptly named Sandbox Institute  
there. Its purpose was to study human sexuality and to fully realize  
"human potential" by liberating the creative energies of the libido.

Paul had heard fantastic rumors about the place -- that it was the world  
headquarters of Free Love, that wild orgies shook the walls every night,  
that the sexual freedom his hippy-wannabe friends talked and dreamed  
about found full expression there. Now he was determined to see . . . and  
experience for himself. He had made his way to within a couple of miles  
of the entrance of the institute and still had a few dollars left.

The middle-aged woman who had given him a ride in a late-model sedan  
earlier that day had warned him. "Sonny, I don't know what you're  
expecting from that bunch of loonies up there on the hill, but watch  
yourself. You're young and defenseless, and you could easily get hurt." He  
didn't believe it. How could love and sex possibly hurt?

 

There it was up ahead -- the massive wrought-iron gate guarding the  
entrance to . . . the mysteries.

No one in sight. "Hello-o-o! Anybody there?" No answer. Wait -- was that  
a push-button on one side of the doorpost? He pressed it, and a muted  
chime sounded somewhere in the distance. With a loud buzz-and-click the  
gate unlocked.

A painstakingly maintained cobblestone road led through a cluster of low  
buildings. The one marked "Administration" seemed a likely candidate  
for a place to ask directions. He swung the gleaming brass knocker on  
a massive wooden door.

"Welcome. Come on in, if you will, and sit down." The woman greeting him  
behind the open door was wearing glasses and a smile -- and nothing else.

His view dropped automatically to her bare . . . bosom. Then his eyes  
slowly traced a line of imaginary caresses down her female flesh, down  
to her tanned belly, down to a triangle of dark hair concealing the  
faint outline of something beneath.

A short barking laugh brought him back to reality.

"What's the matter, kid? Never seen a naked woman before? If so, you're  
probably in the wrong place. This is a research institute. Human sexuality  
research, in fact."

"Uh, yeah. I thought I'd find out more about that."

"You mean you want to learn about the 'birds and the bees'?" She was  
trying, unsuccessfully, to suppress a giggling fit. "If you're a day over  
fourteen, I'll eat my hat . . . which I happen not to be wearing just now.  
That's all we need, trouble with the authorities over contributing to  
the delinquency of a minor. I'll have someone escort you back to the  
front gate."

"No! Wait! I'm overage. I mean I'm of age. I'm eighteen and I came to  
learn about sex. They told me you do research on that. I don't know  
anything at all about sex. Nothing. Nothing at all. Zilch. My parents  
kept me ignorant. My friends never . . . they laughed at me when I  
asked. I was too scared to find out for myself. I'm a blank slate, the  
ideal guinea pig. You can take me apart, put me under a microscope, run  
experiments . . . do whatever you want with me. Just let me stay. Please."

"Oh, my. An unspoiled innocent. How quaint. How precious. I'm sure the  
good doctor will be amused."

"The good doctor _is_ amused." A tall gray-haired man in a white  
lab coat stood in the doorway. His imperious gaze and ironic smile showed  
he was the master of all he surveyed. "It happens that we were looking for  
a suitable subject for certain studies. Your appearance is very timely,  
my lad."

 

Now _this_ was living. Paul had a three-room suite all to himself,  
complete with bath and kitchen, and the ultimate luxury, a large-screen  
color TV. After a quick tour of the institute "campus," Dr. Abelian had  
shown him to his quarters. Until the Program began the next morning,  
Paul figured he could just lounge around in bed, eating barbecue potato  
chips and watching old movies and game show reruns.

Must have dozed off. It was dark. No, his eyes wouldn't open. Couldn't!  
A hysterical scream began bubbling up through his chest and throat. Then  
there was a cool hand on his forehead and a soothing voice in his ear.

"Relax, Paul. You're under light sedation. We're taking some preliminary  
readings on you before starting the first phase of the Program. There's  
a blindfold on your eyes to shut out extraneous sensory input. Relax.  
You're in good hands."

He recognized the voice of the naked woman with glasses. Damn, he still  
didn't know her name. The surface he was lying on felt soft and yielding.  
A disembodied voice was droning somewhere in the background, "Alpha waves  
peaking at . . . " He relaxed, and slowly sank back into dreamless oblivion.

 

Someone was pressing a cup of acid-tasting liquid to his lips. He choked  
and coughed some up. Orange juice. Argh! It burned going down. He ached  
all over, and there were twinges of pain behind his eyes. He moaned  
faintly.

"It's all right, Paul. These are just aftereffects of the mild anesthetic  
administered to you."

"Anesthetic? What the hell have you been doing to me?"

"We were evaluating your suitability for the Program. As it turns out, you  
show a good deal of potential. The next stage is to educate and train you  
in the various nuances of sex and lovemaking. Interested in continuing?"

Boy, was he ever.

"Now this is my pussy," Karen ("I _despise_ that name -- call me  
Kari.") was saying. Her pubic triangle appeared to be the same shade  
of dusky blonde as the hair piled in a Psyche knot atop her head. She  
motioned him closer and pulled apart the lips to show him. "When I'm  
excited and anxious for a man, I get wet down here and inside me. That  
lets this -- " She indicated the growing bulge in his pants " -- slide  
into me more easily, and with more pleasure for both of us. It helps,  
though, if you rub me here -- " she indicated a small red protrusion  
just at the top of her split, " -- and perhaps, if you're so inclined,  
you might even use your mouth and tongue instead of your fingers."

As she guided him into her, he was thinking of all times he had fantasized  
about doing . . . something or other . . . with a woman, and how he  
had always come back down to earth frustrated and unfulfilled. Ah,  
but it was hot and slippery in there. Inside her. Deep in her moist  
darkness. Hot! She pulled his head down to her breasts and gave him a  
nipple to suck.

 

"Yes, Dr. Abelian, the instruction has been very satisfactory so far.  
I do hope I'm making a passing grade in the course."

"Call me Jarman, Paul. And yes, you're doing just fine. So far. Now,  
we'll be introducing you to some of the more advanced modalities of  
sexual expression.

"Women are fine as sex partners, but the highest level of sexual  
expression is joining with another of your own sex. Are you with me so  
far, Paul?"

"Well, uh, I guess, Dr. . . . Jarman."

"The way a man achieves the most intense sensations from the sex act is  
by being the receptive partner. This means having another man's penis  
inserted into him, into his anal opening and full length up into his  
rectum. Now stop me if I'm going too fast for you or if this makes  
you squeamish."

"It's a bit difficult for me to accept actually, Jarman. You mean a guy  
pushes his erect penis into another guy's asshole, the place where the  
. . . the excrement comes out of? Wouldn't that hurt? And it stinks  
down there . . . it's unclean!"

"Come now, Paul. We try to stay open minded about such things here. If you  
desire to achieve sexual enlightenment, you'll need to be more flexible  
than that. Of course, if all this is too much for you, we'd be happy to  
furnish you with a bus ticket back to your home. Think about it."

He thought about it. On the one hand, the idea of shoving his penis up  
someone's butt, or, worse yet, having some other guy's penis shoved up  
_his own _revolted him. It made him nauseous. And yet . . . maybe__  
it wouldn't be so bad after all. Think of the payoff. Getting the chance  
to love the women here, to _fuck_ them was so . . . delicious that  
he couldn't just walk away. Could he?

"Jarman, I've decided to stay. If it means gritting my teeth and  
overcoming a few prejudices, then so be it." 

"That's quite a mature attitude, Paul. You're what? Eighteen? We'll very  
shortly bring you up to the knowledge level of an accomplished master  
in the art of lovemaking. How would you feel about that?" 

"I guess that's why I'm here. Lead on, Doc." 

Ten minutes later Paul was peering down at the plump bare buttocks of  
the woman on her hands and knees in front of him. "Hold on to my hips as  
you put yourself into me," the voluptuous brunette was saying. "Gently  
now. That's it. Pull back a little, then thrust forward again. Slowly. All  
the way in now. Hold still at full insertion and feel the heat in the  
depths of my pussy. Reach around me and finger my clit. Yes. Feel how  
I quiver inside when you do that." 

en minutes later Paul was on his hand and knees and Dr. Abelian was  
peering down at his skinny bare buttocks. "Now, Paul, I'm going to insert  
my finger into you now. This is to lubricate and relax your anal opening.  
Hold steady. Good. It may feel a bit strange at first but any discomfort  
will be only momentary. Ready?" 

Ten minutes later Paul was lying on his back on an examining table.  
A light woolen blanket covered him and he was sobbing gently. 

"Paul, I'm sorry it didn't work out as planned. You tensed up at the  
exact moment I tried to enter you. Certainly that might cause you some  
discomfort, but things will get better . . . you can count on that. We'll  
try again tomorrow morning." 

"I'm sorry I failed you, Doctor. I'll do better next time. I promise." 

The next morning Paul was feeling just fine. Better than fine, actually.  
Super. The "cheer up" injection Dr. Abelian had given him made everything  
seem brighter. 

"Paul, undress, then make yourself comfortable in that fancy chair over  
there. Good, good. See, it tilts back. Now lift your legs up into the  
stirrups. I'll fasten the straps. Normally we use this type of equipment  
for gynecological exams, but it suits our purpose quite nicely for what  
we have in mind today. 

"I'm going to give you an injection now. Yes, right down here into the  
sphincter, into the outer ring of muscle actually. It'll sting a bit,  
but only for a second. This is a muscle relaxant. It will loosen you up  
and make things go much more smoothly." 

Paul was still feeling mellow. Very mellow. The momentary pinprick down  
below there didn't bother him at all. 

The doctor held up a gleaming steel instrument. "Now Paul, this is a  
speculum. It's a device we physicians use to open up and spread apart  
a body orifice. I'm going to insert it several inches into you to  
open your anus up, to spread and stretch you down there. It might feel  
cold at first, but it won't be painful, and you may find the sensation  
interesting, mildly arousing even." 

It was cold, all right, but once he got over the shock it didn't hurt. The  
feeling of being stretched was a bit weird, but no big deal. Imagining  
himself being opened, made accessible for a penis to enter, did somewhat  
. . . arouse him. His own penis was becoming hard even as Dr. Abelian  
was manipulating the device inside him. Paul felt a faint twinge of  
regret when he felt it being removed. 

"Now, let's see how much of a difference that made," Abelian said. Paul  
was relaxed to the point of total limpness. He had dismounted from the  
chair. He was now resting his weight on his elbows, leaning forward, bent  
over the edge of a padded examination table. Naked from the waist down,  
his defenseless bare buttocks presented themselves to the doctor. 

Paul felt the penis push into him. He was so loose down there (from the  
injection and the dilation?) that Abelian's first thrust slid all the way  
up to the hilt into his rectum and filled him completely. He felt totally  
open and vulnerable. The sliding friction inside his gut began to arouse  
him and he felt his penis harden and rise. It actually did feel good. A  
wave of intense heat gradually rippled upward from his lower belly. 

After the doctor left the room, Kari entered. She motioned for him to  
climb onto the examining table, and pushed him down so he was laying flat  
on his back. Then she climbed on top of him. It was strange, feeling  
the good doctor's fluids slowly dribbling out of his anus while she  
straddled him and milked his penis. His vital essence flowed up into  
her in one massive surge and he was well and truly drained. Wrung out  
and drained. Used up. 

This was the daily pattern Paul settled into -- getting fucked by the  
doctor, then fucking Kari. Sometimes the anal stimulation alone would  
bring him to orgasm and this tired him out too much for making love to  
Kari. When that happened, she would just hold him, cradle his head on  
her soft breasts, and rock him to sleep. Her touch satisfied him to the  
very depths of his being. 

Several weeks later, Abelian called a conference. Paul, Kari, and two  
men and a woman identified as "bio-medical engineers" sat in a row of  
folding chairs, flanked on each side by about thirty other unidentified  
persons. The doctor stood behind a lectern at the front of the room. 

"What all this has been leading up to," Abelian was saying, "is setting  
free and utilizing what Wilhelm Reich called 'orgone energy.' It is a  
fundamental cosmic force present in all matter, but especially in living  
organisms. Sexual release triggers emission of this energy and there have  
been developed methodologies of concentrating and collecting it. My own  
research has given tantalizing hints that orgone energy may be the key  
to life extension, and possibly eternal youth and physical immortality." 

The room rang with shouts of disbelief, and Abelian paused until the  
tumult had died down. 

"These are remarkable claims, to be sure. However, we are prepared to  
test them under laboratory conditions. There is history to be made here  
and Nobel Prizes to be won." 

The helmet was hot and uncomfortable. Perspiration trickled down his  
forehead and into his eyes. Paul couldn't believe he had agreed to wear  
this weird metal bucket with a cable harness trailing out of it and  
leading to a wall console. Both the doctor and Kari had similarly wired  
helmets on their heads. All three of them were otherwise naked inside  
this faintly illuminated, overheated sweatbox. Abelian had called it an  
"Orgone Accumulator." 

"It is critically important that we three reach orgasm simultaneously,  
or nearly so. This will set loose the maximum possible quantity of orgone  
energy in a single explosive burst. The wires in our helmets are for  
transmitting and amplifying the cortical impulses mirroring the energy  
emission, in order that the technical staff in the adjoining room can  
accurately monitor and record the event." 

A metallic voice from an unseen loudspeaker spoke: "Prepare to commence  
the test run. Phase one. Initiate linkage." 

The good doctor instructed Kari to bend over forward and Paul to insert  
himself into her from behind to full depth, but to refrain from thrusting.  
They complied. 

"Paul, hold still and relax your anal sphincter as you have been taught.  
Push gently outward as I enter. Steady. Hold steady." 

Now the three of them were fully linked up. Paul held on to Kari's hips as  
Abelian pumped in and out of him in a slow, steady rhythm. There seemed  
to be a faintly luminous phantom light emanating from their bodies. It  
was getting hotter in there. 

The loudspeaker hummed and crackled. "Phase two. Radiation." 

"Nothing to worry about," Abelian said as he continued to thrust in and  
out of Paul's rear aperture. "Just a mild bath of low-level X-rays to  
trigger an orgone cascade reaction. It's perfectly safe." 

"Phase three," the loudspeaker intoned. 

"This is the critical point, Paul. Begin thrusting to bring yourself to  
the brink of orgasm. Then reach around forward to rub Karen's clitoris to  
stimulate her to climax. We'll all come together in the same moment. On  
my count: ten . . . nine . . . " 

When Abelian reached "three," a starburst went off behind Paul's eyes  
as he felt his penis begin that now-familiar twitching. Kari shrieked  
and the doctor groaned. 

"Disengage immediately!" The loudspeaker shrieked. "Excess resonance!  
Can't control the energy level! Runaway reaction! Emergency! Cut the  
power! No! No! NO!" 

There was an intense blue-white flash and a dull boom, and Paul felt  
. . . sensed himself lifted and flung at, then through the flimsy wall  
of the chamber. He must have blanked out for several minutes because  
the next thing he knew he was staggering through the streets of the  
compound. Sirens were blaring. Some of the buildings were burning and  
a thick pall of greasy black smoke obscured the rest. (Got to get out  
of here!) The gate had been blown part way off its hinges and he made  
his way through the wreckage and stumbled downhill. There was a highway  
down there somewhere. Have to get help. Fast. 

... 

"So, Kirin," Paul was saying. Even back in the Sixties, the era of  
Free Love and Universal Enlightenment, there were winners and losers,  
predators and victims. We had our share of charlatans, too: Timothy Leary,  
the Pied Piper of psychedelic drugs, Jarman Abelian, the 'eternal youth  
through sex and orgone energy' messiah . . . " 

He glanced at his watch. Damn, he'd be late for his appointment with  
the cosmetologist. He was due to get his hair re-grayed and the wrinkles  
incised more deeply into his face. It certainly wouldn't do to go around  
looking younger than his own daughter. 


End file.
